217 Babel Street | Roof Garden
Alicia had expected the garden to go on and on like... like a theme park maybe. So the sudden latticed enclosure came as a rude surprise. She pressed her face to the depth of one square hole and watched the letters of the One-Stop across the street blink in the twilight. Its owner was nice. Sometimes he let her have an extra liquorice twist for free. Through another square hole, she watched a taxi pull up outside 217 Babel.
Concentrate. She had to concentrate. The strand of yarn trailed up the latticed wall and disappeared through one of the openings. The hole was deep so she rested the magic box on its stone ledge and began to pull on the get-away yarn. The end rose easily, at last, as easily as an empty fishing line in an unlucky game of Lucky Dip. The lights of the One-Stop winked. The ghost-train riders squealed. She hardly breathed. From below, she could hear the tinkle of laughter and the clatter of women's shoes.
Up and up and up... Almost there.
Then - behind her - footsteps in the pebbles - Hello? she mouthed in a panic but her voice didn't come. A slam of the door - a twist of her wrist as she turned - a flutter of her hand - and the magic box fell, spinning like a dying star in the twilight.
"What on earth?! No, I'm all right, Kara. No, my ankle's okay... But Lordie, I almost broke a flamin' heel on the thing!"